Doors: 6:00 pm / Show: 7:00 pm

Wooly's

Des Moines, IA

$38.50

This event is all ages

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With eight years having passed since we last heard new music from Underøath,
that near decade-length absence weighed heavily upon music lovers’ hearts.
When you consider all of the bands that formed using their idiosyncratic power
and texture as blueprints (and then hearing those pretenders fail anyway), you
can clearly see the hole Underøath left behind. Whatever real-life worries,
psychic baggage or other concerns plagued Spencer Chamberlain, Aaron
Gillespie, Tim McTague, Chris Dudley, Grant Brandell and James Smith at the
time of their 2013 farewell tour, Underøath’s collective consciousness has been
fortified by a renewed commitment to their art. And more importantly,
themselves.
“We had been doing this for 13 or so years,” says Chamberlain, the band’s
dynamic frontman, about the respite that got them to where they are now. “We
were just done by that point. We never knew how long it was going to last. How
many hardcore bands last? It’s not like we hated each other, the music or the
industry. We blinked, and a decade went by of never being home. But we
needed that break, otherwise now wouldn’t have been possible.”
“We got about two weeks into the Rebirth tour,” remembers drummer/vocalist
Gillespie, “and thought, ‘Waaaaait a second. This is too important. It’s too
important to our fans and it’s too important to us and the feelings we have
playing together are too important to ignore.’ And then we slowly asked the
question: What’s next? Then we did Rebirth all over the world. Then we toured
with Bring Me The Horizon. Then we did festivals. All along, there was this
nagging thought: Are we going to make a record? It was a weird question to
impose upon ourselves.”

Never was an imposition more on point: On their Fearless Records debut Erase
Me, Underøath have added another crucial chapter to their formidable legacy.
When the band went in the studio in the summer of 2017 to record their sixth
album with producer Matt Squire (Panic! At The Disco, 3OH!3), they knew
exactly what they wanted to do as well as what they needed to do. Having
already established themselves both as melodic songwriters (2004’s RIAA-
Certified Gold record They’re Only Chasing Safety) and as ambitious power
merchants (2006’s stentorian, gold-selling Define The Great Line and its
majestic follow-up, 2008’s Lost In The Sound Of Separation), the evolution
detailed on Erase Me finds them using the sonic dialects they’ve crafted to
reveal where they are now.
Assisted by Squire’s sonic psychology and enhanced with a wildly vivid mix from
Ken Andrews (co-founder of acclaimed LA outfit Failure), Erase Me never
equates getting older with being complacent. Right out of the gate, “It Has To
Start Somewhere” burns like a rail dragster achieving top speed before hurling
itself straight into the sun. “Wake Me” is almost pop that overshadows whatever
manufactured nine-person co-writing session is currently being marketed on
streaming-service playlists. “Rapture” feels like prog rock that traverses
generations near and far, while Dudley’s electronics drive “No Frame” into
universes unknown. Even the first single, “On My Teeth,” seemingly sends a
warning to listeners to protect their necks. Underøath may have tempered the
punishing riffage of their previous releases, but they doubled-down on the
urgency, via every scream out of Chamberlain’s face, guitarist McTague’s sense
of the appropriate and Gillespie’s frenetic thrashing of his kit. When considering
the pretenders that came to fill the void during their absence, Erase Me
inarguably proves that Underøath’s only true competition is themselves.
“The only rule we had on this record was to reject the phrase we said about our
previous records,” says Chamberlain. “’That’s not Underoath enough.’ We left
that shit in St. Petersburg when we played that last farewell show. To say
something’s ‘not Underoath enough’ robs us of growing. We didn’t say we were
going to make an artsy record, a melodic record or a record our fans will like.
We made a record that stokes us out that we love. And in my whole life, I’ve
never said that on any record I’ve ever been on. That’s us growing up and
progressing—not just as musicians but as human beings.””
Clearly, Erase Me is the apex where melodic heft, indefatigable power, spatial
resonance and arcane electronic textures converge to reveal a band that’s
positively fearless. But like Chamberlain says, Underøath’s creative and
personal growth manifests itself in more ways than the stuff coming out of the
speakers. For the singer, it meant him coming to terms with his struggles with

chemical dependency and his quest to rise above it. In addition, the band who
once openly-- and without apology-- professed their faith-based worldview
onstage nightly, have since moved beyond the realm of seemingly impenetrable
polemics. At various junctures, Erase Me illustrates those moments of
sanctuary, anxiety, betrayal and conflict that inevitably arise when humanity
grapples with belief systems. Underøath are not being provocative to create
shock value, faux-hipster smugness or revisionist history toward their
accomplishments. This is where their reality has taken them: That such a
narrative exists in the first place is a true manifestation of their personal growth.
With all the accolades, the history, the fandom, as well as the hardships and
growing pains in their psychic rearview mirror, Underøath are just as committed
to their legacy as much as their friendships. Erase Me is a bold step for a band
who want to preserve their integrity in a world where cashing in is a false
equivalence for actively delivering mediocre art. When asked if he feels his band
still has something to prove this far in, Gillespie is lucid.
“We’ve had success and we’ve come through a lot of waters,” he offers
plaintively. “There’s been 11,000 things we’ve been through. So, you would
think, almost rhetorically, ‘What do you need now?’ All of us are finally in that
place in our lives where the only thing we care about is inclusion for
everybody—for the world. For me, exclusion is the scariest thing in the world.
And I think as Underøath are coming back now with a new record—which none
of us thought was possible—we want people to know that this is your music and
you can feel however the fuck you want about it. I just want to prove that we are
doing everything in the most honest way we ever have. This is the healthiest
we’ve ever been as a group of people, as musicians, and in our worldview.”
Don’t kid yourself: Even with a comeback title seemingly marinating in self-
fulfilling prophecy, nobody in their right mind would dare delete Underøath’s
measurable contribution to the advancement of post-hardcore and heavy rock.
The only thing you need to erase is your patience with their pretenders. Accept
no substitutes and your culture won’t feel destitute. It’s great to have Underøath
back—especially on their terms.

# # #

UNDERØATH - With eight years having passed since we last heard new music
from Underøath, that near decade-length absence weighed heavily upon music
lovers’ hearts. When you consider all of the bands that formed using their
idiosyncratic power and texture as blueprints (and then hearing those
pretenders fail anyway), you can clearly see the hole Underøath left behind.

Whatever real-life worries, psychic baggage or other concerns plagued Spencer
Chamberlain, Aaron Gillespie, Tim McTague, Chris Dudley, Grant Brandell and
James Smith at the time of their 2013 farewell tour, Underøath’s collective
consciousness has been fortified by a renewed commitment to their art. On their
Fearless Records debut Erase Me, Underøath have added another crucial
chapter to their formidable legacy. When the band went in the studio in the
summer of 2017 to record their sixth album with producer Matt Squire (Panic! At
The Disco, 3OH!3), and Ken Andrews (co-founder of acclaimed LA outfit
Failure), they knew exactly what they wanted to do as well as what they needed
to do. Having already established themselves both as melodic songwriters
(2004’s RIAA-Certified Gold record They’re Only Chasing Safety) and as
ambitious power merchants (2006’s stentorian, gold-selling Define The Great
Line and its majestic follow-up, 2008’s Lost In The Sound Of Separation), the
evolution detailed on Erase Me finds them using the sonic dialects they’ve
crafted to reveal where they are now. Clearly, Erase Me is the apex where
melodic heft, indefatigable power, spatial resonance and arcane electronic
textures converge to reveal a band that’s positively fearless. The band who once
openly-- and without apology-- professed their faith-based worldview onstage
nightly, have since moved beyond the realm of seemingly impenetrable
polemics. At various junctures, Erase Me illustrates those moments of
sanctuary, anxiety, betrayal and conflict that inevitably arise when humanity
grapples with belief systems. Even with a comeback title seemingly marinating
in self-fulfilling prophecy, nobody in their right mind would dare delete
Underøath’s measurable contribution to the advancement of post-hardcore and
heavy rock. The only thing you need to erase is your patience with their
pretenders. Accept no substitutes and your culture won’t feel destitute. It’s great
to have Underøath back—especially on their terms.

Dance Gavin Dance is an American post-hardcore band formed in Sacramento, California in 2005. They released four full length studio albums and one EP. Their latest effort, Downtown Battle Mountain II was released on March 8, 2011.